


Near Misses

by Szcay



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Also slight spoilers for beginning of season 3, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ballroom Dancing, Fancy Victorian Dresses (you'll have to imagine them), Gen, I'd call it pre-slash only it's het so.... Pre-het? Is that a thing?, One Shot, Probably less happy than the summary makes it seem..., Spoilers up to s02e06, Victorian Attitudes, Victorian Etiquette, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szcay/pseuds/Szcay
Summary: Remember that ball Dorian Gray held for Angelique? So many of our favourites were there: Sir Malcolm, Vanessa, Dr Frankenstein, Lily, lovely Mr Lyle and a whole handful of witches. What if Mr Gray had invited just one more guest? I feel like our dear Ms Ives deserves a dance...





	Near Misses

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been gone a long time, but finally I've managed to produce something! Hopefully it is the start of more to follow. I'll warn you that this fic makes some assumptions on your memory of the show. Not that it can't be read otherwise, just I scattered some references...
> 
> If you'd like some music to go with the main attraction, I had this in mind: [Dvorak - Serenade in E major Op.22](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm_VVxKCIzQ&index=6)

The ballroom seemed most of all akin to a display of jewels. The swirling skirts of the ladies shimmered in silk of all colours of the rainbow, offset by the black wool of their cavaliers. As Victor entered with Lily on his arm, he felt at once humbled and ridiculously proud. In his opinion Lily was a brilliant diamond, rendering the rest into cheap coloured glass.

“Oh, Victor, this is all so splendid,” she’d said, and it had been.

Until Dorian Gray appeared, plucking Lily from his grasp.

Victor wasn’t certain if this was the third or fourth dance Grey had had from her. ‘Ms Angelique’ had vanished some time ago, leaving Victor with Ms Ives and his heartache. The music bled together with the servant announcing new arrivals, still coming at a steady flow, and the bright lights and colours had begun to stab at Victor’s eyes.

_“Mr and Mrs Hereford.”_

“Mr Gray is being a proper host to a new guest, that’s all.”

Ms Ives was, bless her kind heart, trying to cheer him up. Victor recognised it somewhere in the back of his mind, but all he felt was impotent jealousy.

_“Sir Malcolm and Mrs Poole. Lord Alfred.”_

Lily laughed at something Gray had said.

“You’re smarter than that, Ms Ives.” Victor didn’t look at her as he spoke, couldn’t take his eyes away from Lily. “I wanted her to have life. Now she does.” And wasn’t that the cruellest irony, that someone else would give her that look in her eyes.

_“Mr Wilde. Mr Kimberley and Ms Easton.”_

Sir Malcolm appeared, fresh-shaven and unashamedly happy, with an equally glowing Mrs Poole on his arm.

Their happiness made Victor’s stomach sour. He glanced again to Lily, seeing the back of her head and Gray’s predator’s smile.

_“Mrs and Ms Gresham. Dr Jekyll.”_

Victor froze, his head turning almost involuntary to the door, forgetting all about his companions.

It had been years since he’d seen Henry Jekyll, but he wasn’t a hard man to pick out through the crowd that mercifully hid Victor from sight.

Henry hadn’t changed. Maybe his hair was a little longer, maybe his face was a little harder, but he still carried himself like a lord among beggars and with all of the barely-hidden disdain that implied.

Victor quickly turned back to the others, just in time to see Sir Malcolm to lead his lady friend onto the dance floor.

Ms Ives turned to him with a dry smile, possibly wishing that Victor would ask her the same of her. For a moment he considered it, if only to better conceal himself.

He did not want to meet Henry.

“What’s the matter?” Ms Ives was watching him with more focused concern now.

Victor forced a wan smile. “Nothing, just…” He made a vague gesture towards the dance floor. “Maybe we should go get you a drink?”

Ms Ives was still holding a half-full glass of champagne but nodded, frowning faintly, before something beyond his shoulder drew her gaze.

“Dr Frankenstein.”

Even forewarned, the voice startled Victor with its visceral familiarity.

He turned, making an effort not to look so taken aback. “Dr Jekyll.”

Henry’s expression was closed. Not precisely cold, but not far from it. He looked down at Victor, taller than memory had rendered him. “I’m surprised to find you somewhere like this.”

Victor felt a spike of annoyance, certain there was a barb hidden behind the flat tone but not sure of its nature. It could be that he suspected something of Victor’s economic state, or thought him too lowborn. Or perhaps Henry simply meant to imply that Victor might have been just as likely to scurry into the shadows as to stand and face him.

“I could say the same for you.” Victor didn’t make his voice sharp the way he could have. It wasn’t needed. He saw the words hit home in the subtle shift of Henry’s face.

Victor still knew his weak spots. As Henry clearly knew Victor’s.

“Will you introduce me to your friend, doctor?” Ms Ives’ question was innocently put, but she was smart enough to notice things were less the amicable. Still, Victor couldn’t politely refuse.

“Ms Ives, may I introduce Dr Henry Jekyll.  We studied together at Cambridge. Dr Jekyll, Ms Vanessa Ives.”

He could have introduced ‘the _Honourable_ Dr Henry Jekyll’, making clear Henry’s noble, if mixed, blood. It might have won him some forgiveness. But Henry’s remark still stung.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Ms Ives’ smile was not overly warm, but enough to seem genuine.

“The pleasure is mine, Ms Ives.” Henry didn’t really sound like he meant it, voice politely indifferent and fingers barely clasping hers as he made a small bow. But some hidden hostility, noticeable only in its absence, disappeared from his expression when he looked at her.

Victor suddenly wished for nothing more than to be home and in bed. He should have never come. Then he wouldn’t have had to bear the weight of Henry’s anger, deserved though it was. Then Lily’s head wouldn’t have been turned by Dorian Gray.

The music was building to an end. Lily’s wide smile caught his eyes, aimed at the deceitful dandy.

“Excuse me.” Victor went to collect his ‘cousin’.

 

\- - -

 

Vanessa couldn’t say she was surprised to see the young doctor head off to reclaim his cousin. She pitied him a little, for she feared he wasn’t going about things in the best way with Lily. Perhaps Vanessa felt a bit vexed for Victor’s poor company, but his heartache was enough of a reason to forgive him. And it had been her choice to come unaccompanied, however much she might regret it now.

She turned her gaze to the strange Dr Jekyll. He was still gazing after Victor, expression hard. Yet somehow she got the feeling that despite the apparent animosity, Dr Jekyll wished Victor had stayed.

“Was it long since you last saw each other?” Vanessa asked, on a hunch.

Jekyll seemed surprised, eyes flickering to the side for a moment as if confirming it was really him she was talking to. “Five years.” He said it as if it didn’t matter and his gaze went straight back to Victor. “Who is he talking to?”

Victor had led Lily to a corner of the room and was speaking intently to her. She was smiling. He was not.

“His cousin. She’s visiting.”

Jekyll didn’t seem entirely pleased by this. “I thought he was _your_ escort tonight.”

“Alas no,” Vanessa repressed a sigh. “I came alone.”

“An unenviable condition,” Jekyll replied, eyes still across the room.

Vanessa realised what it was she found strange about him. Another man might have afforded her his full attention upon hearing her unspoken for. Might have smiled and complemented her, seeing an opportunity for a pleasant moment if nothing else. She wasn’t unaware of her appeal; it was the rare gentleman who didn’t show her _any_ interest. Even then, he might at least feel obligated to take pity of her (and though she resented pity, she would have welcomed it right now.)

Jekyll, with his dark complexion, more likely felt obligated _not_ to. Which begged the question why he was here in the first place, if not to dance and chat? And Vanessa had nothing else to occupy her time and no particular wish to be left entirely alone.

She affected a somewhat more wistfully feminine voice than she might have otherwise. “Yes, I haven’t danced a single dance and I fear I won’t at all tonight.” The concern was a genuine one. Her reputation was, to put it mildly, tattered; society treated gossip like an art form and she’d given it enough material.

At least her suggestion, rather overt as it was, got a reaction from the stoic doctor. He turned his attention on her, brows furrowing ever so slightly. After a moments pause he spoke. “I’d ask for a dance, but I’d rather spare us both the embarrassment of your refusal.” A downward tilt of his mouth spoke of his distaste for the words.

Vanessa didn’t let her face betray that they were having anything but an amiable conversation. “And if I didn’t refuse?”

The subject was clearly bothering Jekyll now, his gaze no longer seeking Victor and Lily, but fixed steadily at nothing. “Then I’d spare your reputation.”

No give. “How come you’re here tonight, Dr Jekyll?” Vanessa let her voice be more serious, but kept the warmth. “You won’t dance and you don’t seem too interested in conversation. Is it simply to dig up old hatchets?” Most people here would be seeking to entertain themselves with the opposite sex.

“Our host is generous with his invitations,” Jekyll said blandly.

Vanessa hid the small prick of hurt that hearing that caused. She’d been the one to break it off with Dorian, but that didn’t mean she felt nothing for him. She wouldn’t have been displeased to see him still a little heartsick. Would have liked to think his reason to invite her a little special. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jekyll let out a slow breath. “My family situation requires me to attend gatherings like this, however pointless it might be. I don’t have much choice in the matter, and so here I am.”

Vanessa felt as if their roles were reversed, as if the doctor was the coy young lady playing at mystery and she, the cajoling gentleman. It was a peculiar feeling, and thrilling. “Since you’re here, why not enjoy yourself?”

“You assume I would.” Jekyll seemed to realise what he’d just said, quickly closing his mouth. He gave her an embarrassed glance, possibly the most open expression she’d seen on him.

She affected a tone of faux affront at the implication. “Dr Jekyll, you wound me!”

“Forgive me, I meant no offense.”

Quickly, Vanessa replied, “I shall forgive you, on the condition that you dance with me.”

There was something hunted in Jekyll’s eyes now, flickering between her and the swirling masses. Vanessa noted that his eyes caught again on Victor.

She decided to offer the poor doctor an out. “Unless you haven’t been taught?”

An out _of sorts_. Besides, for all she knew, he couldn’t dance.

Now it was Jekyll’s turn to look affronted, eyes snapping to hers, narrowing. When he spoke, his words were slow, deliberate. “Ms Ives, would you do me the honour of a dance?”

It was a challenge if she’d ever heard one. Vanessa smiled, enjoying her small victory. “With pleasure.”

Despite his apparent unease, Jekyll’s offered hand was cool and steady.

 

\- - -

 

Henry was decidedly uneasy as he led Ms Ives onto the dance floor. He’d practically been harassed into dancing by this singular lady, but since he was doing it he would do it properly. Accusing him of not knowing how to dance, how dare she? Had she been a man, Henry would have let her know precisely what he thought of her condescending assumption.

As it was, he’d settle for showing her the error of it.

The quartet struck up a waltz triste and the dancers took their positions. Ms Ives met Henry’s gaze steadily, still with a glint of victory in her eyes. Henry maintained his calm expression as he lightly placed his hand on her back, relieved his palms were dry against the silk of her gown.

With their first few steps, the look in her eyes were replaced with pleased surprise.

Henry let some of the satisfaction he felt shine through in his voice. “I’ve had as many lessons as yourself, I’d hazard.”

Likely more, considering the fastidiousness of his lord father and the fact that her name was unknown to him. He’d been made to memorise all the important families’ names, and the young, unmarried ladies in particular.

Ms Ives merely smiled, rather sweetly. “Then it is my time to beg your forgiveness.”

Henry found himself flushing at her immediate, innocent acquiescence. He told himself she wouldn’t notice.

He cast his gaze out, finding Victor in a corner, arguing with his _cousin_ , grabbing her by the arm as she made to leave.

Victor didn’t have a cousin of that age and gender. Henry would have known. Unless their friendship had meant even less to Victor than was already evident.

“Do you practice medicine, or are you committed to research like our common friend?” Ms Ives’ tone was mild, but Henry thought he caught a note of recrimination for his inattention.

He was getting the distinct impression she was toying with him as he met her gaze again. “A bit of both.”

She smiled again, a hint of amusement under her words. “You consider yourself a man of mystery as well as medicine, I gather.”

“Hardly.” Henry couldn’t keep his voice from hardening. “There’s far too much notoriety attached to my name and person for any attempt of anonymity.”

The gossip that had surrounded the family since his birth had only intensified since he’d come to London to seek out a future wife on his father’s order. He’d much rather Ms Ives’ admitted to knowing it than to suffer her affected ignorance.

She raised an eyebrow. “The mystery thickens.” She pursed her lips, seeming almost sincere. “Jekyll… Your name seems familiar I admit. It’s English, if I’m not mistaken.”

Henry steeled himself for whatever she would say next, quite regretting letting himself be goaded into this dance.

Ms Ives shook her head. “No, I can’t say I recall it.”

If it was meant as an insult, it lacked bite.

She continued, still smiling as if they were sharing a confidence. Perhaps they were. “Will you give me a clue? This notoriety, is it due to your actions or circumstance?”

“Circumstance,” Henry replied, believing her despite himself. He barely stopped himself from asking if she was certain she hadn’t heard of him – it would have sounded impossibly self-important.

“Then it shouldn’t matter.” She lowered her voice. “I’m hardly in society’s good graces myself.” Peculiarly she, who had seemed as confident as a cat until now, made a small grimace, almost as if she regretted her words.

Henry searched his memory. London’s gentlemen tolerated his company well enough, seeing as he wasn’t much competition with the ladies, and he’d endured quite a lot of gossip this season. He couldn’t recall the name Vanessa Ives though. It wasn’t in _Burke’s Peerage_ , though his own name held a begrudging place there. Henry couldn’t say he was familiar enough with _Landed Gentry_ to know every family there. If the Ives were amongst them, they weren’t a big family. Not that it mattered.

“Then perhaps I should take your offer to dance with me at face value, rather than as pity.” He couldn’t keep his tone from cutting just a little; she had been toying with him, no matter the reason.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Had it been pity it would have been misplaced; you are an excellent dancer.”

Despite himself, Henry felt a pang of pride at the praise. Ms Ives did seem to enjoy herself, gracefully following his lead, as light as a feather in his arms. Her hand was ungloved, her milky skin touching his. Suddenly, Henry found he needed a great deal more focus to keep his motions smooth.

It wasn’t the first time he’d danced at a gathering like this, but it _was_ the first time the lady in question hadn’t been doing it out of sheer inability to refuse politely. (Not that _Henry_ would pressure them. The few times it had happened it had been a well-meaning acquaintance, seeking to ‘help’ – and get a dance with the lady’s more attractive friend at the same time.) But Ms Ives clearly wanted this dance, if only out of lack of options. Well, Henry couldn’t begrudge her that.

“Thank you.” Ms Ives’ voice was quiet, her expression sincere, drawing him out from his flustered thoughts. “My pride would have been badly bruised had I needed to spend the night a wallflower.”

“You’ve done me the same service,” Henry replied, equally quietly.

Ms Ives met his gaze evenly, perfect from dress to makeup. She’d seemed out of Henry’s reach just moments ago but now, not so much. She wore a small, secretive smile and Henry felt his own lips tug upwards in response.

He would have liked to talk more, dance longer, but the strings chased each other to a melancholy end, climaxing with a few, sharp strokes and the dancers separated.

Henry kept Ms Ives’ hand, leading her away from the centre of the floor and wondering if she’d grant him another dance. Too many, and it would send the wrong signals to the onlookers, but one more perhaps… Just not right away, he didn’t want to seem overly eager. A drink first, and more conversation.

Before he’d had the time to do more than open his mouth though, an older gentleman with hair that could only be described as ‘sculpturesque’ appeared.

“My dear Ms Ives,” he begun nervously, throwing an insincere smile of apology at Henry. “Could I steal you for a moment?”

Ms Ives frowned, troubled rather than bothered by the gentleman’s request. “Of course. Forgive me, doctor.”

Henry was more than bothered, but refused to let it show. The short gentleman took Ms Ives’ arm in a _very_ familiar grip and began to usher her away. Henry followed her with his gaze and caught a few words despite his best intentions.

“…escort you home? This place isn’t safe for you.”

Henry turned away, a mix of anger and humiliation burning in his chest. Was it such a crime for him to dance with her to require such drastic measures? He was the son of a lord. The _true_ son, despite what rumour said. His complexion was a technicality that shouldn’t matter.

Yet at every turn it did.

“Dr Jekyll?”

With a herculean effort, Henry made his face neutral and turned to face Ms Ives.

She wore an apologetic smile that still managed to charm him. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut the evening short. I wish you luck for the rest of it.”

Henry managed to make a polite goodbye, but he didn’t hold any hope to see her again. An introduction at a ball meant nothing once it was over; if he saw her on the street he would have no right to approach her. This had been just a single moment.

He was considering whether to call it a night when someone bumped into him.

“Oh, forgive me!” a petite brunette in a deep red dress exclaimed, her spilled champagne sloshing and barely missing them both.

Henry steadied her with a hand on her – gloved – elbow. “Are you alright, miss?”

“I’m so dreadfully clumsy, did I spill on you, oh, I’m ever so sorry!” Her eyes were wide enough to swallow her whole face.

In the face of her embarrassed distress, Henry felt himself soften a bit. “It’s quite alright, no harm done.”

Relief overtook her expression. “Thank you. It’s my first ball, and I feel hopelessly out of place.”

She extended her hand, quite in breach of etiquette – they really should have been introduced through mutual acquaintance – but Henry knew well what it was like to feel out of place and made no mention.

She smiled. “My name is Hecate Poole.”

 

\- - -

 

Dorian was beginning to grow bored of this entire spectacle. He’d felt a wonderful rush of excitement when leading Angelique down the grand staircase, seeing the gathered people whisper between themselves, yet too polite not to applaud their hostess. And she’d seemed to enjoy it as well, as unapologetic as he could have wished.

Now, however, Angelique had changed her tone. Dorian knew well she hadn’t attended many balls in her life, but she must realise he couldn’t dance _only_ with her. He had duties as a host, after all. Duties that he was getting increasingly tempted to abandon along with the entire thing.

The only other delight of the evening had been meeting Ms Lily again. She was another creature entirely. Dorian remembered her as she’d been, a small, frail thing lingering on death’s doorstep. He’d enjoyed the evening they’d spent, though not enough to remember her name. He didn’t think it had been Lily though. He wondered if he still had the photographs…

Sadly, it seemed the opportunity for further dances with her was gone. As the music ended, Dorian saw Lily on her cousin’s arm, over Angelique’s shoulder. The pair was headed for the door in what seemed like a sullen mood. Really, the little doctor needed to control his jealousy if he wasn’t to scare Lily away. Had Dorian been a more generous person he might have shown Victor how to treat a woman properly.

The doctor cast a final, lingering look across the room, regret in his expression. Dorian followed his gaze, idly curious, to find a certain dark-haired gentleman. Jekyll, he recalled after a moment. Henry Jekyll, the subject of gossip curious enough that Dorian simply _had_ to send him an invitation. Of course, it might all be nothing and the man himself hopelessly dull, but Dorian wasn’t opposed to putting in a little effort in his quest for diversion. He’d introduce himself to Henry. Lay the foundation for a more private discussion. Perhaps salvage something else than his introduction to Lily.

It would have to wait though; the man in question was talking to a young woman and Angelique was still pouting. Her lips really was the most attractive shape.

Dorian gave her his full attention, putting on his most charming smile. This night might be a disappointment, but he had eternity.

“Champagne?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This might just be the most heterosexual thing I've ever written... It's not gonna be a habit though, so don't worry if that's not your cupcake.


End file.
